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d20 Apocalypse: Vault 52 (Updated 10-25)
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<blockquote data-quote="Falkus" data-source="post: 2625424" data-attributes="member: 22634"><p>“RAIDERS!” one of the guards yelled, as they scrambled for cover. About sixteen men in gray clothing and using sports pads as armor had appeared at the edge of the forest on the western side of the roadway.</p><p></p><p>The guards their started firing with their Colt .45s, as half of the raiders charged, screaming and wielding large axes made out of old sawblades. The other half hung back, and took aim with flintlock muskets.</p><p></p><p>And somewhere in the forest to the west was a sniper.</p><p></p><p>The team reacted on instinct, their weapons clearing their holsters as they sought cover. Raiders this close to the vault was bad news, better to deal with them now, then worry about being trailed back to their home.</p><p></p><p>Gunther and Hef moved up through the wagons, weapons out, and Quinn followed, pulling the pin from a phosphorous grenade as he ran. Grey and Beef circled around to the left, and Larif went to the right, pumping his ten gauge shotgun.</p><p></p><p>Quinn wound up and threw his grenade, going off mark, however. He was aiming at the gunners, and managed to catch two of them in the flames of the grenade. They dropped their muskets and ran around, screaming and flailing and trying to put out the flames. The wasteland was short on public service messages, apparently, as no one had taught them to stop, drop and roll.</p><p></p><p>Beef dropped to his knees, sighted down the barrel of his Desert Eagle, aiming right at the head of a musketman, and pulled the trigger. He was rewarded with the gun feeding incorrectly and jamming. Cursing, he started to clear the jam.</p><p></p><p>The musketmen were using the ditch for cover. As the raiders with axes smashed into the line of cavern guards (one of them being ripped to shreds by a burst from Trader’s M-60 as he ran) the musketeers fired at the more dangerous targets, the security team. But, they missed. Rocks smashed into the ground and stuck in the wagon walls, one of them missing Hef’s head by less than a foot. The Geiger counter he wore on his wrist started to click.</p><p></p><p>“Watch out, the rocks they’re shooting are radioactive,” he shouted, double checking his Geiger counter.</p><p></p><p>One of the gunmen wasn’t as lucky as his fellows. He had packed too much gunpowder into his weapon when loading it. The whole thing blew up, taking his heads with them. Screaming wildly, he ran around aimlessly, waving his arms.</p><p></p><p>Spinning the cylinder of his revolver, Hef took aim at the trench, as Gunther and his pipe joined the fight between the caravan guards and axemen, brutally cracking skulls left and right.</p><p></p><p>Hef pulled the trigger, and fired the shell into the ditch. The shell was a tear gas penetrator that he had purchased not five minutes ago. The gas spread out in the trench, and the entire squad of gunmen dropped, coughing and rubbing their eyes.</p><p></p><p>((OOC: After this incident, I have decided to never allow my players access to tear gas again.)</p><p></p><p>Grey was having a great time, firing into the axemen, blazing away with both pistols, when suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as the sniper from the forest blasted a rifle round into him. “Damn it!” he shouted, rolling behind one of the wagons.</p><p></p><p>Trader, firing his machine gun from the hip, and hit the gunmen who’d lost his hands with a burst, blowing him down to the ground and into the eternal sleep of the dead.</p><p></p><p>Beef cleared the jam on his Desert Eagle, and quickly resumed firing, taking down one of the axemen who was locked in combat with a caravan guard. More than half of the caravan guards were down by now. Larif helped even the odds with a ten gauge shotgun blast that turned another one of the raiders into something very messy.</p><p></p><p>Quinn used the chaos of the melee to rush by towards the ditch. Dodging a sniper shot, he pulled out a pair of grenades, pulled the pins, and tossed them into the ditch amongst the helpless raiders. He immediately dove for cover as the grenades detonated, turning a ditch full of tear gasses raiders into something resembling chunky chili.</p><p></p><p>Gunter, meanwhile, had jumped up on the last axe raider, and straddled him, bearing him down to the ground as he beat his skull in with his pipe.</p><p></p><p>With the majority of the current threat dead, Hef took off into the forest, reloading his shotgun as he ran, looking for the sniper. Grey followed close behind, eager for a bit of revenge.</p><p></p><p>The pair had a hell of a time finding the sniper. Every six seconds or so, the man took another shot at the time, and while they could hear where he was, damned if they could find him. He was using some really good camouflage.</p><p></p><p>“We need a better plan!” Grey shouted, as a bullet sunk into a tree next to him.</p><p></p><p>“Find some cover; we can think better when we’re not being shot at!” Hef shouted back.</p><p></p><p>After about thirty seconds of this lethal game of dodge bullet, they came to rest for a moment, about four hundred feet into the forest, under a large tree, thinking they could take a few seconds to catch a breather before continuing the search.</p><p></p><p>From above them, there was the distinctive sound of a man working a bolt action rifle, and an empty shell dropped past Hef’s face, a second before a bullet went into his leg.</p><p></p><p>He screamed in pain, and fired upwards, along with Grey. Two shotgun shells and a 10 millimeter bullet caught the sniper right in the chin, and flipped him backwards out of the tree, to land heavily on the ground several feet away. The raider threat was eliminated.</p><p></p><p>To be continued</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Falkus, post: 2625424, member: 22634"] “RAIDERS!” one of the guards yelled, as they scrambled for cover. About sixteen men in gray clothing and using sports pads as armor had appeared at the edge of the forest on the western side of the roadway. The guards their started firing with their Colt .45s, as half of the raiders charged, screaming and wielding large axes made out of old sawblades. The other half hung back, and took aim with flintlock muskets. And somewhere in the forest to the west was a sniper. The team reacted on instinct, their weapons clearing their holsters as they sought cover. Raiders this close to the vault was bad news, better to deal with them now, then worry about being trailed back to their home. Gunther and Hef moved up through the wagons, weapons out, and Quinn followed, pulling the pin from a phosphorous grenade as he ran. Grey and Beef circled around to the left, and Larif went to the right, pumping his ten gauge shotgun. Quinn wound up and threw his grenade, going off mark, however. He was aiming at the gunners, and managed to catch two of them in the flames of the grenade. They dropped their muskets and ran around, screaming and flailing and trying to put out the flames. The wasteland was short on public service messages, apparently, as no one had taught them to stop, drop and roll. Beef dropped to his knees, sighted down the barrel of his Desert Eagle, aiming right at the head of a musketman, and pulled the trigger. He was rewarded with the gun feeding incorrectly and jamming. Cursing, he started to clear the jam. The musketmen were using the ditch for cover. As the raiders with axes smashed into the line of cavern guards (one of them being ripped to shreds by a burst from Trader’s M-60 as he ran) the musketeers fired at the more dangerous targets, the security team. But, they missed. Rocks smashed into the ground and stuck in the wagon walls, one of them missing Hef’s head by less than a foot. The Geiger counter he wore on his wrist started to click. “Watch out, the rocks they’re shooting are radioactive,” he shouted, double checking his Geiger counter. One of the gunmen wasn’t as lucky as his fellows. He had packed too much gunpowder into his weapon when loading it. The whole thing blew up, taking his heads with them. Screaming wildly, he ran around aimlessly, waving his arms. Spinning the cylinder of his revolver, Hef took aim at the trench, as Gunther and his pipe joined the fight between the caravan guards and axemen, brutally cracking skulls left and right. Hef pulled the trigger, and fired the shell into the ditch. The shell was a tear gas penetrator that he had purchased not five minutes ago. The gas spread out in the trench, and the entire squad of gunmen dropped, coughing and rubbing their eyes. ((OOC: After this incident, I have decided to never allow my players access to tear gas again.) Grey was having a great time, firing into the axemen, blazing away with both pistols, when suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as the sniper from the forest blasted a rifle round into him. “Damn it!” he shouted, rolling behind one of the wagons. Trader, firing his machine gun from the hip, and hit the gunmen who’d lost his hands with a burst, blowing him down to the ground and into the eternal sleep of the dead. Beef cleared the jam on his Desert Eagle, and quickly resumed firing, taking down one of the axemen who was locked in combat with a caravan guard. More than half of the caravan guards were down by now. Larif helped even the odds with a ten gauge shotgun blast that turned another one of the raiders into something very messy. Quinn used the chaos of the melee to rush by towards the ditch. Dodging a sniper shot, he pulled out a pair of grenades, pulled the pins, and tossed them into the ditch amongst the helpless raiders. He immediately dove for cover as the grenades detonated, turning a ditch full of tear gasses raiders into something resembling chunky chili. Gunter, meanwhile, had jumped up on the last axe raider, and straddled him, bearing him down to the ground as he beat his skull in with his pipe. With the majority of the current threat dead, Hef took off into the forest, reloading his shotgun as he ran, looking for the sniper. Grey followed close behind, eager for a bit of revenge. The pair had a hell of a time finding the sniper. Every six seconds or so, the man took another shot at the time, and while they could hear where he was, damned if they could find him. He was using some really good camouflage. “We need a better plan!” Grey shouted, as a bullet sunk into a tree next to him. “Find some cover; we can think better when we’re not being shot at!” Hef shouted back. After about thirty seconds of this lethal game of dodge bullet, they came to rest for a moment, about four hundred feet into the forest, under a large tree, thinking they could take a few seconds to catch a breather before continuing the search. From above them, there was the distinctive sound of a man working a bolt action rifle, and an empty shell dropped past Hef’s face, a second before a bullet went into his leg. He screamed in pain, and fired upwards, along with Grey. Two shotgun shells and a 10 millimeter bullet caught the sniper right in the chin, and flipped him backwards out of the tree, to land heavily on the ground several feet away. The raider threat was eliminated. To be continued [/QUOTE]
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